Flaky caramel-brown crust
of a shiny sheen
Base of dark chewy chocolate
moist and fudgy, scoop
each bite pure
Fourteenth Epulaeryu! ^-^
Now who doesn't love a good ol' brownie?
Especially with a glass of milk or a scoop of fresh vanilla ice-cream!
Aaaaaaaaaahhhh, it's heavenly!
Brownies, Bogart's, or Borrowers within my halls,
pitter patter of small shoes in my dusty walls,
I hear the ranting and mumbling of his voice echoing in my rooms,
The scraping of his small tools fill me with gloom,
the knocking, pounding, and banging at night make my nightmares come to life,
so if i was you, I would plaster and grout every small hole you find about,
for it is not a good thing to have a small being running about your things,
so save your frustrations about the tiny thing and call a exterminator and do the right thing.
Copyright Michael Robert triska March 2018 this poem was for a Saint Patty's Day DND game.
...and I cut them in
a 4 by 4 grid, just the
way God intended.
I made brownies.
Inconsistent in England
An old train from Piccadilly
To New Mills
Sweating up a steep hill
To a blistering barbecue
To share with older brothers
Spaced and complaisant
Sedated in the sunshine
Overlooking the opposing hills
With an ex copper in our coterie
So pleasantly surprised
By the sun and situation
But it's not summer anymore
CDC was basically closed. Their OLCC application is stuck in processing somewhere between here and wherever. I went to the other one, instead. The taco place out front still isn't open. I have to imagine that a taco shop is going to do pretty well next to a dispensary. It was T2 something. Counter guy too cute, fast talker. It's a good smoke, but I ate a tray of brownies. I wish I could throw up, but if I'm gonna have love handles, I'd rather they be diabetes sweet, rather than the alternative.
I can't see you.
I can't protect you.
Burning in your curiosity.
Huffing another smoke, unrelenting.
You don't understand the dream sugar.
What you want, is something important.
Something covered in whipped cream and bbq sauce.
You see, I'm just a voice in my head.
Burning brownies baked with bread.
You don't like brownies and bread? Well go to hell.
They're my brownies.
Mine, something you can't claim because you have nothing.
No one, No idea and no value to anything.
You value your brain and **** it for not being enough.
Poison your body for not being able to take the strain of life.
Burn your cigarette to take away the pain of being alone.
Striking your soul, praying you never have to atone.
Cologne rhymes with alone you know. Funny coincidence right?
Brain power. Stained flower.
Hope and happiness. Dope and sadness.
Not whats on the
Oh my elusive friend, trying to take the pain away.
The point of life is not to avoid but to minimize.
Like the Japanese!
A child looks for purpose.
An adult works towards it.
Smell the air; he fails.
His mother will be home.
Scrape burnt chocolate into the trash
and spray Febreeze.
and goodbye Mary.
140 characters or less
brownies taste better
and fill me up with their love
more than you. that's it.